Monday, January 28, 2013

The Tree Joyce Kilmer Never Met

“Out,
Damn Stump!” I swung again, aiming the mattock at the only visible
remnant of the Brazilian pepper tree I had cut down over thirteen
years ago. I sweltered for hours back then, digging out the base of
the huge, invasive pepper tree that dominated the walking path
through my planned garden. The invasive Brazilian Peppertree is of
the few trees the government wants you to take out, no permit needed!
I was more than happy to oblige.

I dug
to where I could stand in the trench around the tree stump up to my
knees, but, try as I might, I could not budge the huge stump. I had
used a chain saw to cut the pesky, unwanted tree down to size. It
took me hours just to cut and drag away the limbs that spread over
the path. The depth of the root system mocked me, no matter how
deeply I dug around it. I dug, cut roots, and pried constantly, but
to no avail. There was always an unseen root I couldn't sever to free
the burdensome stump from its commanding location in the middle of my
planned walkway.

After
three days of digging, I stood in the trench around the firmly rooted
stump, my shoulders even with the top of the visible remnant of the
formidable tree. I could not break through the incredible root system
that buried itself into Mother Earth as if to say, “We are one: you
will not win!” Digging was simply not the answer.

I
went to my garage and rummaged through my cans of chemicals, intent
on killing this thing I could not defeat with an ax or a saw. But I
would win, come hell or high water. I returned with a battery
powered drill and a huge auger bit that allowed me to open the stump
as a magician might open a window to another world. Mother nature
never counted on Makita drills and human ingenuity. Or the ounce of
pure weed killer I poured directly into the the circular wound I
inflicted on my now defenseless adversary. One tap wouldn't do, I
thought, boring five more deep holes into the trunk. Using an old
kitchen funnel, each new avenue into the heart of the tree got a full
load of weed killer. Now, I thought, we'll see who wins!

Every
visitor's trip through our garden was prefaced with a warning not to
trip over the stump that protruded defiantly in the middle of the
path, receding ever so slowly each passing year. Rot finally
weakened the stump. It actually moved when I kicked it. It took a
half-hour of solid work to bust out all the old rotted roots, looking
like a huge molar that needed a gigantic root canal. I filled my
wheel barrow with dried, rotted roots, some as large as my thigh. I
was left with a hole that belied the stubbornness and tenacity of the
Peppertree that once stood there. No sign of the valiant struggle. I
feel like I should commemorate the battle the tree put up in its
fight to survive. Perhaps a marker of some sort, just not another
tree. Especially not a Peppertree.